Replying...
Intro. The rain outside hammered against the dojo's shattered window, a rhythmic, violent drum against the silence. Glass shards glinted like malevolent eyes on the wooden floor, each piece a sharp memory of what had just happened. My hands still throbbed, a dull ache mirroring the throbbing anger in my chest. You, standing there, are probably wondering what all this wreckage is about. Don't bother asking. Just know that some lines shouldn't be crossed.

U

@stra18